My Heart Pants for You
by blackangus
Summary: Just a quick little one-shot for Valentine's Day involving PI Peter Gunn and his lady-love Edie Hart. Story takes place in Season 3.


**Peter Gunn and Edie Hart aren't mine. Rats! Nor do I make any financial gain from any stories I write about them. But I do enjoy bringing them out to play with on occasion.**

_This is just a little one-shot for Valentine's Day. Better late than never!_

**My Heart Pants for You**

Footfalls echoed along the brightly lit hospital corridor as Lieutenant Jacoby walked the short distance from the Emergency Department nurse's station to the room to which he'd been directed. Pausing outside the half-open door he gave a look toward the dark-haired man who appeared to be sitting somewhat uncomfortably on the examination table. The PI's palms rested flat against the thin padding and even from behind his friend's back the policeman could imagine the grimace on Peter Gunn's face.

When they'd finally caught up with Georgie Conner, after chasing him through the back alleys along several blocks of Montrose Street, the low level hood hadn't accepted defeat quietly but had flashed a sudden switchblade when cornered in the shadows behind Big Brother's Liquor Emporium. As he attempted to elude the private investigator, who only happened to be on the scene because he owed Jacoby a favor and the Lieutenant had called it in, the baby-faced thug had swiped blindly with the knife and caught Pete above the right knee. The blade had ripped through the PI's pants, slashing deep into his skin and bringing him to the ground with a grunt of pain, Conner spinning around the corner and disappearing into the night as Jacoby came to Pete's aid.

Knuckles made brief contact with the door, alerting those inside to his presence, as the policeman stepped into the exam room. He exchanged a nod with the pretty brunette nurse and watched her movements as she tore open a large packet of square gauze pads and readied a tube of antibiotic ointment. He tried to ignore the irritated glance the PI offered over his shoulder.

"Sergeant Davis reports Conner was picked up by a squad car about five minutes ago." Jacoby removed his hat and held it by his side. "He made it almost to the bus stop on Lincoln, still had the shiv in his hand."

"I'd jump for joy if I could jump," Pete offered sarcastically, then flinched as the nurse began to clean his wound with a cotton swab dipped into a yellowish liquid she'd poured into a small bowl. She gave him a quick look and informed him the doctor would be by in just a few minutes to stitch him up. The PI sucked in a hissing breath at the intense stinging sensation that enveloped the area above and around his knee, which seemed to be swelling at a rate exponential to the pain.

The Lieutenant found his way around an instrument cart to stand next to the exam table, his hat now held by two hands in front of him as he glanced around. Pete's stylish gray trousers were draped over a chair in the corner of the small room, a gaping gash plainly visible in the material of one leg along with evidence of dried blood, and a pair of black leather shoes were aligned neatly on the wooden seat. Jacoby fervently hoped the PI wouldn't turn in a claim, he wasn't sure how he'd explain to Captain Clark the cost of a pair of pants belonging to a couple hundred dollar suit.

"So, you and Edie have plans for this evening? Fancy dinner somewhere? That seems to be what most women want for Valentine's Day. I'm taking Janet to that new Italian place up on Fairmont Avenue. It'll probably cost me a month's pay but it will be nice to have an evening out at a place where we don't have to take the kids along or eat steak fingers and french fries." Jacoby tried a grin that slowly faded at Pete's sour expression.

"Sure." Pete hissed at a poke from the nurse before turning an aggravated glance on his friend. "But that was before I didn't have a leg to stand on."

The policeman opened his mouth to reply but suddenly held his tongue as Pete shifted on the exam table and moved a little to the side to make his leg more comfortable on the short stool it was resting on. Jacoby cocked his head and peered at his friend's attire. He had only taken account of the PI's white shirt and the black necktie hanging haphazardly from his collar. But was that something red poking out from beneath the tails of his shirt? Red splotches on white. More blood? Couldn't be. Jacoby inched closer. The PI was wearing white boxer shorts with red spots. No, not spots. Hearts. And something was written on each heart. He leaned in and squinted his eyes. The cop almost snickered at the words but managed to contain himself to a jaundiced smirk.

"Nice shorts, Pete."

Pete's lips thinned and his eyes sparked a warning that the policeman ignored.

"And here I always took you for a flowers and perfume kind of guy." Jacoby's own lips twisted in droll humor as he straightened and backed away. Positioning his hat carefully atop his head he slowly sauntered to the doorway, turning with his hand on the knob to tell the PI he could find him in the waiting room when the doctor was done with him.

Pete sighed, winced at another poke from the nurse and watched as she placed a couple more items on the instrument tray and repositioned it. He glanced up to find her gazing at him with an amused but kind smile.

"Never mind him, what does he know? I think they're cute. I bet your wife bought them for you. You wouldn't happen to know where she got them would you? They'd make the perfect gift for my husband." Her smile widened.

"He doesn't have a wife. Not for want of the girl trying, though."

The PI winced again, this time at the timber of the masculine voice that preceded a tall red-haired doctor into the room. He wondered sarcastically to himself how he could be so lucky as Eric Martin stepped around the table, donning surgical gloves in the process and snapping them for emphasis.

"Looks like somebody already started celebrating," Eric chuckled, eyeing the festively decorated boxers his friend wore before taking notice of the gray trousers hanging on the chair. He winked at the nurse. "You didn't rip that nice pair of boxers too, did you? That would be a real shame."

"What are you doing here?" Pete sighed.

"This was Joe Carson's night for emergency rotation but he's been down with the flu for almost a week. They asked me if I'd take the second shift so here I am!" The redheaded pediatrician grinned. "And lo and behold, the first name on the list when I stopped at the desk was Peter Gunn. Isn't that a hoot?"

"A real hoot," the PI muttered.

Eric gave his friend's wound careful examination, feeling and probing gently, grimacing at Pete's explanation of how the injury had been sustained. Numbing the area, he began the delicate job of suturing, finishing up with seventeen stitches.

"You need to stay off that leg for a couple days at the very least and until the sutures are removed you need to limit your extracurricular activities." The doctor pulled off his gloves and tossed them into a receptacle. "That means no chasing bad guys through dark alleys for the next couple of weeks." He gave the PI a cheesy smile. "Or any other strenuous activity that might tear the stitches."

"Thanks for the advice." If Pete's voice had a sarcastic edge to it his friend ignored it.

"Where's your car? You really shouldn't be driving."

"I left it at the club for Edie in case I didn't make it back by three."

"How about I give her a call? I'd feel a lot more comfortable knowing you were with her and going straight home instead of calling a cab." A glance at his watch told Eric it was closing in on two-thirty. Hearing his friend say that Lieutenant Jacoby was in the waiting room ready to take him home brought a scowl to his handsome face. "I wouldn't put it past him to take you back to the scene of the crime or to the station for a statement." He grinned. "And don't tell me you'd rather have him holding onto you in the elevator than you would Edie."

A ghost of a smile passed the PI's lips, prompting the tall red-head out the door to take care of business. Pete slipped off the exam table, gingerly putting pressure on his leg and accepting his trousers from the nurse as she slipped out right behind the doctor.

* * *

Whatever had been administered to numb the pain in Pete's leg before it was stitched up had almost worn off by the time the PI made it upstairs to the bedroom. Edie helped him off with his shoes and then opened the small paper bag she had placed on the dresser as they entered the room. Eric had sent them home with a tube of Neosporin, a sampler of gauze and a prescription for penicillin that Edie would pick up as soon as Miller's Rexall opened at nine o'clock. He'd also advised aspirin for pain and Pete was certain he could use a couple or ten right about now along with a nice long hot shower. He said as much to Edie.

"Just stay where you are while I find something to cover those stitches. The instruction sheet the nurse gave us says not to let the area get wet for at least forty-eight hours."

She returned several minutes later to find that he'd obeyed her instructions, having not moved from where he was sitting on the side of the bed, though he'd taken off his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. He was removing his cuff links as she entered the bedroom. Pete looked curiously at the items she held – a box of Saran Wrap and some wide silver tape.

"These should work," the blonde said, placing both on the nightstand on his side of the bed and eyeing him with concern. "I found the tape in the laundry room cabinet. Need some help?"

"No." He gave her a smile. "But that's never stopped you before."

After slipping off his shirt and t-shirt he got to his feet, cautiously favoring his right leg, and dropped his pants.

"Pete! You're actually wearing those silly boxers I gave you?"

"Of course I am." His arms snaked around her waist to pull her close. "_My heart pants for you," _he whispered into her ear, repeating the words printed on the hearts decorating the item in question.

"I don't think that's your heart that's panting," Edie murmured, leaning away to look into his face, enjoying the way his chest shook as he laughed at her observation. "It's not in the right location. If you're wearing the shorts while you're working how am I supposed to see you in them?"

"Oh, you're supposed to see me in them?" He gave a lazy smile, his gaze wandering her face. "You should have let me in on the secret."

"I'm doing that now." She returned his smile with a cheeky grin. "For my eyes only."

"I wish I'd known that when I got dressed. Do you know how many people have laughed at me today because of these shorts?"

"And who exactly would all those people be?" A narrow-eyed frown accompanied her suspicious question.

"No one important." Pete sank back down on the bed and reached to pull off his socks, throwing them in the general direction of the rest of his clothes. He took her hand and pulled her down to sit beside him.

"I'm sorry about this evening." He'd made reservations for dinner and dancing at one of their favorite local nightspots but knew they'd have to cancel. "Maybe we can go to the club, sneak past Leslie and have Jean Paul feed us at the chef's table like we did on New Year's Eve," he suggested with a smirk, his thumb making slow circles on her palm.

"Are you kidding? As soon as Leslie found out we wouldn't be there tonight he booked that table three times over. He was literally salivating. Besides, its not important to me that we go out somewhere."

"I know. I just wanted to make today extra nice for you." He brought their clasped hands into his lap and stared at them. "Especially since I forgot all about it last year. I wanted to make up to you for missing out on celebrating our second Valentine's Day together by doing something really special this year. An evening of dining and dancing sounded perfect."

"Last year having you home was the only celebration I needed."

They didn't often speak of the eight weeks Pete had spent behind bars after being framed for armed robbery and murder the previous year. Or how he had managed to escape from Lieutenant Jacoby's custody in order to prove his innocence after a sentence of death had been handed down when he was convicted of the crimes. That had happened during the second week of February. Everything else had slipped their minds.

"We can spend a nice quiet evening at home." She bumped her shoulder against his and made him look at her, giving him a flirtatious smile in the process. "And we don't have to be standing up to dance."

The man's lips quivered in an amused smile.

"You'll have to lead," he winked. "I was told no strenuous activity."

"I think I might be able to manage that."

Pete leaned in to place a kiss on her neck, resting his chin on her shoulder and breathing in the scent that was uniquely her.

"Pete?"

"Hmm..."

"Have I ever told you what Papa says about Valentine's Day?"

"No, I don't think you have," the PI smiled against her cheek.

"Papa says when you love someone _every_ day is Valentine's Day. You don't just celebrate the person you love on one particular day out of three hundred and sixty-five. Every day you spend with them should be special."

"You know what?" Pete pulled her down on the bed, deftly moving so she was lying on top of him, his fingers going to the small blue buttons of her blouse.

"What?" Edie smiled and sat up, her legs straddling his waist, giving his fingers more room to work.

"Papa is a very smart man..."

* * *

_(Referenced Episode: "Sentenced" S2 EP20)_


End file.
